


The Nature of Love

by idleflower



Category: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Dark, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Subtext, Yuletide Treat, this is either a darkfic or a fix-it and possibly both, this story massively ran away with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleflower/pseuds/idleflower
Summary: Love is pain. Love is suffering. Love is persevering against all odds. Love is worth more the more you fight for it. Love is worth any sacrifice.Maybe that's not quite right.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owl_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owl_coffee/gifts).



The ocean is not a world, but a universe. It is a chain of many worlds, each washing over its neighbors as boundaries rise and fall. There is the world of the sunny shallows, where the flounder lie against the pebbles and the mole crabs dig burrows in the swash. There is the world of the drifting jellyfish, so distant from any shore that they have never imagined land. There are deep zones stained black with gas and ash that billow up from rents beneath. There is the world of the Leviathan, which none who enter are seen again. Yet even the Leviathan cannot be said to rule over the ocean entire. Worlds within worlds, and none may know them all. 

Beneath a cool northern sea, bounded by many rocky shores, deep below the waves, lies the realm of the merpeople, those with upper bodies like men and women of the land, but lower bodies like creatures of the sea. They are born in many shapes and colors, some round and merry, some thin and knobbled like branches, some as green as kelp. None have legs, but some tails are short and scaly, while other tails are long and soft like eels. And all the merpeople follow one ruler, the Mer King.

In this time, the name of the Mer King was Rodelmer, though only his mother ever spoke it. He was her only child, the only scion of the last Mer King, who had met his death in battle shortly after his heir was born. "Rodelmer," the grand widowed Queen whispered over the coral cradle. "Roi de la Mer. All of this shall be yours." 

For many years, the Queen Mother ruled as regent while her son grew strong and fierce. She was a striking woman, with hair whiter than pearl even when her skin was still youthfully smooth, and the scales of her fishtail glimmered purple even in the darkest shadow. None in the Mer Kingdom knew her age or her family. She simply was, and none could outshine her. In time, though, Rodelmer grew to glorious manhood, and his mother passed him her crown and withdrew to her own apartments at the top of the palace, still the highest-ranked of any woman in the Mer Kingdom. And though the law forbade noble merwomen to wear more than six oysters clinging to their tails, the Queen Mother wore twelve.

King Rodelmer maintained his realm in good order, ruling with a light touch so long as the population were peaceful and well-behaved. He chose for his bride a noble girl by the name of Anisine, who was meek and lovely and kept her deep blue eyes downcast except when he begged her to raise them to him. She was his jewel, and for many years of their marriage they were very happy together. The Queen stayed largely in the palace, tending to her pets and her plants, and the Queen Mother perched in her apartment, and the King traveled the realm, and life went on as a happy dream.

But one year, as she tended to her beloved pets, the Queen began to weep. The tears of a mermaid are not liquid, but blue crystal, and as she cried, her tears scattered upon the ground. "Why do you weep, my love?" the King asked, when he saw the state she was in. 

"I have failed you," she said. "For we have been man and wife these many years, and I have never given you an heir." And the king said nothing, for he could not deny that he wanted a child, even if he did not consider his wife to be a failure.

So time passed, and the Queen grew more melancholy, until at last a whisper came to her ear telling of a great Sea Witch, one with the power to make impossible things happen. Desperate to please her husband and prove herself a good wife, the Queen swam out past the foaming whirlpools into the realm of the Witch. What she found there, she never said, but soon after that, it came to pass that there would be a royal child at last, and all the Mer Kingdom rejoiced.

After some months, the Queen was delivered of a child: a girl with hair almost as fine and pale as her grandmother's. The King was greatly pleased, but the Queen less so, for a daughter was not a son. She kissed her child and her husband, but as soon as the royal physicians would allow her out of bed, she was swimming off again to the Sea Witch's domain.

Thus it went. Every year, the Queen gave birth to a daughter, each one more beautiful than the last, and every year the Queen herself faded a little bit more. Her sapphire eyes seemed to bulge out of a face that was too soft, too pale, like the bloated flesh of drowned land-creatures waiting to be stripped for the larder. When the King tried to discourage her, the words were always the same. "Don't you want a son?" And he could not say no. So she would smile back at him, cradling her latest daughter against her heavy breasts. "Love is worth sacrifice."

When the sixth princess was born, the Queen's tears overflowed, and the royal gardener had to harness sea horses to carry them all away.

In many a fairy tale, the seventh child would be the one of destiny. A clever princess, a fortunate prince, a sorcerer gifted with magic greater than the Sea Witch herself. Surely, the Queen thought, the seventh child would be the long-sought heir.

There was no seventh princess.

There was no prince.

There was no longer any Queen.


	2. Mermaid

With the Mer King now a widower, it fell to the Queen Mother to manage the palace and raise the six little princesses. Only the eldest of them remembered their mother, but all were told as they grew how kind she had been, how thoughtful, how she had loved them so much that she had given away her life for their sakes. Only the eldest protested that she wanted her mother back, that it wasn't fair, that it hurt to be alone. "You feel that pain because you loved her," said the Queen Mother. "Embrace it." After that, even the younger ones learned to build shrines to their lost mother and play out rituals of grief, sighing at the beautiful tragedy of it all. For what was love but suffering?

Each little princess was a pearl of a different hue. The eldest most resembled her grandmother, her hair and skin pale as sand. The youngest had skin of rose-kissed pink, and her eyes were like her mother's, blue as sapphire. Each little princess had her own room in the palace, her own personal attendant, her own collection of pretty baubles to play with, and her own plot of land in the palace gardens to decorate as she saw fit. One preferred to gather together as many plants as possible and let them grow chaotically, laughing when they spilled over into her sisters' territory and had to be pruned back. One built a labyrinth of stones piled into pillars and decorated with spiny purple urchins that menaced the unwary, then hid herself in the center and dared her sisters to find her. One delighted in rearranging her flower beds to create different pictures and shapes - a whale, a merman, a crown. The youngest, though, preferred to gather only the reddest of flowers, and lay them out in a circling spiral. Red, the color of the sun as it filtered down to the ocean depths, with rays streaming around it like flower petals.

For the youngest princess was a strange child, as quiet as her mother, but where Anisine had kept her gaze downcast, Princess Irina (for that was her name) was known for staring upwards. When the seas were calm, she would perch herself on a rock and stare upwards for hours, watching that dim and distant star, lost in her own thoughts. She loved to hear stories of the world above the sea, whenever she could convince her grandmother to tell them. Like all adult merfolk, the Queen Mother had visited the surface, but she was older and wiser than most, and had more to tell: of stone towns and chimneys, of trees with thick trunks and green leaves, of animals that could swim through the air itself and sing sweet songs, of fire which shone-bright but destroyed whatever it touched, of people who walked on the ground with two legs and could not survive beneath the waves. Irina could not quite picture it all, as it was so different from the world she knew, but she loved to imagine it anyway.

"When you have reached your fifteenth year," said the Queen Mother, "then you will be allowed to rise up out of the sea at night. Our kingdom lies between several human lands, and they often sail great ships through these waters. There you might see humans for yourself."

"But at night, there will be no sun," said Irina. "How will I see?"

"There will be moonlight. You have not seen the moon, my dear, as its light cannot reach so far below, but it hangs in the sky like a pearl. The light of the moon is cool and pale, and much more suitable for a delicate young mermaid like yourself. The sun is like a fire. It can bring pain all over your skin if you let it. It would make you vulnerable to attack. Only when you are older and more used to the ways of the world can you risk the sun."

The littlest princess acknowledged the royal edicts, but that did not stop her longing to know more of the oversea world. Even the sun and its burning. For what was love but pain?

Not one of the princesses would be allowed to venture to the surface until she had reached fifteen years of age. In the years between, they sang songs and played games and learned the legends of the sea. They chased fish for the thrill of darting after a fleeing opponent, and learned to lay in wait with spears to hunt. They searched the sea bottom for rare treasures and curios that had drifted away or been lost in shipwrecks. Each princess had her favorites - strings of beads, porcelain plates, silver mirrors - but Irina's most precious treasure was a sculpture of white marble. 

It was the head and torso of a beautiful young boy, perhaps only a few years older than Irina herself, but the torso was covered in mysterious ripples and folds (the princesses had never seen clothing worn, and what cloth fell into the ocean soon rotted away) and had neither arms nor legs attached. The other princesses found it ugly, or strange, or frightening. What misshapen creature had such textures covering its body, and no tail, no fins, no hands? How did it move? Was it born helpless, or had someone mutilated it? The Queen Mother chuckled at their fears, and did not explain further. But Irina still adored her statue. His fine, handsome face, like and unlike a merman's. If such a creature were real, she imagined, she could serve him herself, she could be the hands and tail that he lacked. She brought the statue to her garden to admire it, and planted a rose-colored weeping willow tree next to it for protection, and lay beside it in the waving shadows, staring up at its marble face, singing songs - songs of a mother to her babe, songs of a woman to her lover. Irina was still a child and did not know the meaning of her songs. She knew only that the statue's face was as compelling as the sun.

Even in the soft drifting life beneath the sea, time never stopped. It soon enough would be the year in which the eldest princess would make her virgin ascent to the surface. Her sisters were awed and envious, but as each was a year younger than the last, they would have to wait for their turns. Still, each princess promised to share with her sisters all the wonders that she found in the lands above.

At first, that held true. The eldest kissed her sisters farewell and rose into the night, to return with tales of wonder - the unimagined sounds of the world above, slapping sails and rattling carriages and even the tolling of bells in the church steeples. And all her sisters leaned in to press for this detail and that. But as the years turned, there grew a divide among the sisters between those who had seen the surface and could return there for shared escapades when the mood struck them, and those that could only watch and wonder. In the end it was only Irina left alone, shut out amongst her sisters, waiting for her day to come. No guard in all the Mer Kingdom would have dared to intercept the youngest princess had she taken it in her mind to defy the law of the sea, but she was her mother's daughter, obedient and faithful. She waited in painful melancholy for the day her dream would come true, and the misery of her longing only sharpened her resolve, until all of her being vibrated with the need to rise from the sea.

The sun set and rose. Tides turned. At last, Irina reached her fifteenth year.

"You are a young adult at last," said the Queen Mother. "Now you may begin to learn adult things. Come and be adorned with the signs of your rank." Around Irina's neck she attached a heavy collar of pearls, the largest round nodules pressing close to her skin, the smaller beads drifting out and away on fine silken strands, as if her throat were encrusted with white anemones. Her rose-pink flesh was tightly wrapped with blades of kelp. Then the old woman ordered eight great oysters to attach themselves to Irina's tail. 

It was all very uncomfortable. "Please," said Irina. "It is so heavy and hard to breathe."

"This is the price of adulthood, my dear. Every princess must feel pain."

It was not the way she wished it to be, but Irina was her mother's daughter, and she would pay any price in the service of her heart. She thanked her grandmother for her care, kissed her farewell, and began her long ascent.

At last! At last!

Light as a bubble, she rose through the waters, until at last she broke through - into _nothingness_.


	3. Prince

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was nothing she had ever felt before. The water ended, and the substance above - the _air_ \- passed through her fingertips without resistance. She could not swim any higher.

Irina raised her arms, and they felt strangely heavy, as if the water itself were pulling her back. All around her was a black void. No fish, no plankton floating past, no waving fronds, nothing at all. Her beautiful hair, which had always floated around her in a cloud, now plastered itself against her skin just as tightly as the kelp her grandmother had wrapped around her. A current - a _breeze_ \- swept over her, chilling her flesh but refusing to carry her along with it. She opened her mouth, and the _air_ flowed in. Every sensation was alien.

And then she looked up.

There, in the darkness overhead, hung an enormous pearl, shedding silvery light. The moon! And around it, beds where tiny flickering glows blossomed in the dark - the stars!

How wonderful was the surface!

She stared upwards, barely remembering to keep her tail in motion to stay afloat, drinking in the sight of the sky. Even if she saw nothing more, she would have counted the night as one of the most momentous of her life.

But then there came the most curious of sounds.

The first she heard was a high-pitched whine, not entirely unlike the sounds some sea creatures used to find their way, but with a different character in the air. The following bang, however, was totally unfamiliar to a creature of the depths. And then the sky began to rain light - light of every color, twinkles of red and blue and green that appeared and fell and vanished. What sorcery was this?

Irina spun in the water, and only then did she notice the human ship. She recognised what it was, of course, both from tales and from the broken pieces of wrecks that had made their way down to the sea floor, but she had never before seen one in motion. Sails flapped against high poles. Men - with legs! - swarmed across its surface. Windows glowed with hidden candlelight. More lights hung from the ship's beams, trapped in colorful paper lanterns. And from the decks, occasional bursts of light and sound streaked up into the sky, where they burst into the flowering colors she had seen before. This was their source.

She had to know more.

She ducked back under the water so she could move more easily. When her head broke the surface again, she was swimming alongside the boat, almost too close to be comfortable. But the sounds! She could hear so much now. Laughter. Talking, many voices overlapping. Music, strange music, beautiful tunes crafted with instruments she could not possibly identify. She drifted back so that she could see the movements above more clearly. Yes, people were dancing. The entire ship was a celebration. In honor of my birthday, she thought to herself, and laughed aloud. Of course it was not, but what a beautiful gift it was for the sea to offer her.

She circled the ship now, peering in through the windows. The humans had decked themselves out in all sorts of colored fabric, and now in a flash she understood the 'rippled skin' of her beloved statue, and laughed at her own innocence. Was this why the Queen Mother had 'clothed' her in sealife? For the customs of the land?

As she watched the humans at play, she became aware that one figure was the center of their celebration. A young man, apparently on the cusp of adulthood, with coal-black hair and a face as beautifully sculpted as her statue-boy. He wore fine velvets and thick golden chains. Instinctively, Irina recognised him as a prince of his kind, just as she was a princess. Every dancer deferred to him.

The celebration lasted for hours, drawing Irina along in its wake. She paid no attention to the movement of the ship, to how far she had come from her starting point. She could not take her eyes off the beautiful prince.

All of a sudden, a great wind rose. The ship trembled in its course, and the colored lanterns were torn away from their moorings, falling into the sea where their lights hissed and died. The humans ran about in a panic, catching items as they slid, blowing out candles that threatened to spill, rushing to the deck to adjust the sails. The prince was among them, shouting orders, though few stopped to listen to him in the panic. Afraid of being seen, Irina lowered herself in the water, only her eyes peeking above the surface.

He was there, on a high perch. A man was with him. The mast groaned. The sails swung. And then - the prince was gone! No, he was falling!

The ship at high wind could not possibly stop. They had no chance to recover him. He would belong to the sea now. He would be hers, like her statue! And then Irina remembered that humans could not live in the water. If he sank down to her garden, he would be quite dead before he reached it. She had to save him!

She hurried to the spot where she had seen him fall. The prince was not there - no, he was moving in the water. He was trying to swim after the ship, not realising that it was futile. The currents of air that could not move a mermaid could and would push a sailing ship relentlessly. Too, the cloth wrappings hampered his movements. Human legs were not designed for the ocean, and less so when covered in heavy boots. His arms and legs splashed about, but he was making little progress.

Irina swam to his side, eager to offer aid. She opened her mouth - and his flailing arm struck her across the face. His eyes, it seemed, were not designed to operate without lanterns and candles. He could not see her. They grappled in the waves, his boots scraping over her scales, his nails against her face. Sometimes it seemed he thought she was a log, a bit of flotsam he could cling to to keep himself afloat, and he would push her head down into the water. The mermaid was, of course, in no danger of drowning, but she could not make her words understood in such a manner. Other times, she would attempt to grab hold of the prince so that she could pull him along, and he would struggle and fight like a wild thing. Both the blows he inflicted and the rejection that she felt caused her pain, but that only heightened her determination. Any prize that must be won through suffering and struggle shines more brightly.

His waterlogged clothing, the chill of the dark night, the water he could not help swallowing when he gasped, the mermaid's clutching embrace - all of these eventually drained the prince's strength. At last he fell limp. Irina supported his body, careful to keep his head above water, and began to ride the waves. She had no destination in mind. She had very little sense of where she was, in any human sense. The only geography she could recognise lay far below, too far for her to feel its guidance now. She did not know where to find the nearest shore, nor did she have any idea what land the prince belonged to, or the destination of his lost ship. None of that mattered. She would not allow herself to imagine failure.

By chance or by fate, dawn found Irina near land. So exhausted was she, so focused on her task, that she did not even notice the rosy colors that blossomed above, and when the first rays of sunlight fell upon her, she did not fear their heat, only rejoiced that some amount of warmth might return to the prince's body. There, ahead, lay a beach! Sand, the same soft sand that she might lie upon in her own home, different though it looked without water to cover it. Surely that would be a safe place for the prince to sleep. The little mermaid dragged her burden through the surf, both bodies coming to rest against the wet sand of the shore. So close, but not enough, for the waves washed back and forth, and if she left him here, he still might drown after everything. Irina flicked her tail to push herself further up the sand, and gasped aloud in dismay. Any part of her body that left the ocean sank back, heavy as a stone. She could scarcely move! Without the legs of a land creature, how could she bring even her own body out of the water, much less the prince's?

No, she would not, could not fail! Though it might strip every scale from her body, she would twine her tail in the sand, snakelike, and force her way up!

At last, gasping and weeping from exhaustion and the heat of the sand and sun, Irina pulled the prince to a point where she thought he would no longer be in danger, and collapsed upon his chest. She knew nothing of humans or medicine, this poor little mermaid. She had no idea how to care for him. She would not have known if his heart had failed in the night, undermined by cold and despair. She could only touch him, and kiss his lovely face, and whisper all of her hopes and dreams into his unhearing ears. Her prince, her treasure, her love, worth all the pain that the world could give. Her crystal tears fell like tiny stars all around him.

It was the sounds that gave her warning. Bells ringing, though she knew not what they were, and the babble of voices. Someone was coming. She dared not stay. Battered, flopping, weak, she slithered down the damp sand and vanished into the waves, hiding herself behind nearby rocks.

It was not long before she saw a young woman in a long gown approach the spot where the prince lay upon the beach. Much like the prince, she had dark hair and a noble bearing, though her face was not as pale or finely-sculpted. She exclaimed in shock when she spotted the crumpled form, but quickly summoned others and began to give them directions. She was not weakened by the sand under her feet or the sun shining upon her head. The prince was lifted carefully from the sand and carried away, out of sight.

That was it, then. There was nothing more she could do. Irina sighed, a long stream of bubbles taking the last of the surface air out of her body. She slid back into the depths and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	4. Family

There was a great uproar when Irina finally floundered back to the palace - long overdue, battered and scraped, her oysters lost and half her pearls torn away, still shaking from her ordeal and the emotions she did not know how to cope with. Fearing her a victim of some violence, King Rodelmer might have summoned up an army to storm the upper seas for vengeance had his other daughters not waved him down. Sisterly vows were strong, and they were determined to hear her story.

It took much soothing and petting to coax the tale from her lips, but at last they tucked their wayward sister into her sea-bed and went to report reassurances that only her own stubbornness had done her harm. The royal guard relaxed, and the king smiled and nodded and began preparations for a grand undersea ball, now that all his daughters were of age. And Irina slept. Mermaids are fey creatures, meant for laughter and frolicking, for singing sweet sea-songs and lying in comtemplation in quiet coves. Life and death struggles do not come naturally to them. The youngest princess was brought treats and tidbits by her loving family to help her rest and recover. Soon, they expected, everything would be back to normal.

But for Irina, normal had been shattered. Her heart was all in pieces. She could not close her eyes without seeing their faces - the beautiful prince floating cold upon the waves, the handsome princess standing firm upon the sand. Ah, if only she could have been that princess and stayed by the prince's side!

She stroked the face of her marble statue. Poor sweet statue. Just as pale and smooth had her prince been in the water, but on land he had laughed and danced as this statue never could. Closing her eyes, she remembered the celebration... and the lights, the magical lights that fell from the sky, the music from instruments unheard in the sea. 

Tiny tears clattered to the sea floor. Ashamed, Irina buried them beneath the statue. What right had she to weep? Her life was complete. She had seen the surface. She had seen the sun. She had saved her prince.

Hadn't she?

The princess of the land had taken him away. He had been well after that. Hadn't he?

Weeks had passed since her first excursion, but she had the right of passage now. Telling herself that it was only to settle her heart, she made the journey back to the shore where she had left the prince, and perched again by the rocks, waiting and watching.

At first she came at night, but she soon realised that no human at all approached that beach in the dark. After that, she came by day, pressing herself into shadows to mitigate the sun's burning gaze. Her patience was only somewhat rewarded. Humans did walk past the beach, sometimes even coming down to enjoy the waters of the sea. Some of them wore gowns that resembled the princess Irina had seen before - but none of them were her. Day by day she returned, watching the fruits and flowers of the human gardens ripen, but there was no princess, no prince, and every night she returned to her home more sorrowful than before. At last she admitted it was hopeless, and after that, she spent her days in her garden, arms around the neck of her beautiful white statue, her face pressed to his, her eyes unseeing, and the flowers in her garden grew wild.

The eldest princess became concerned about Irina's turn to melancholy. Yes, they had heard her tale of a beautiful prince, but none of them expected it to have such a lasting impact on her. All the mermaids had seen sailors before. Many of them delighted in tempting such men to leap into the sea, to their eventual doom, although such a pastime was considered undignified for a princess. For a mermaid to leap onto the land was unnatural and frightening. Still, something had to be done, lest the youngest princess perish of a broken heart.

The sisters gathered their friends and told Irina's story, describing the prince and his boat and the celebrations. At last they found a merman who knew the shape of the human shore, and the boundaries they called kingdoms. He recognised the prince from Irina's tale. His name, among the humans, was Frederik, and his territory lay some distance from the beach upon which the mermaid had deposited him. Perhaps he had returned to his homeland.

Armed with this information, the princesses roused their youngest sister from her stupor. The eldest even volunteered to guide her to Prince Frederik's lands, though unknown to Irina this was partly to ensure that she would not beach herself in despair. The princesses entwined their arms and rose together to the surface of the waters in the Danelands. Here, the prince and his parents had built a seaside palace of shining yellow stone overlooking a private beach. Rooms with tall glass windows granted glorious views of the ocean at sunset to the human occupants. For the mermaids, it meant that they could spy glimpses of splendor within: marble statues, silk curtains, gilded furniture, even a fountain that sprayed up sparkling jets of water inside the heart of the palace.

But for Irina, the only sight worth seeing was the one that made her heart sing: Prince Frederik himself, standing upon a marble balcony in the moonlight. He was alive and well! Oh, how beautiful he was! He stood looking out to sea, a tiny frown between his brows. Did he feel the same ache that she did? Did he remember the mermaid who had saved his life? Was he searching for her? If it had not been for her sister's presence, Irina might indeed have rushed onto the beach, calling his name, before her better sense took over. She knew well that a prince did not live alone in a palace, that a stranger would be met with guards and hostility. An inhuman creature would likely meet a worse fate. And what would they have to say to each other, she and her Prince? They were creatures of different worlds.

Yet, why was he so melancholy? What had become of the princess who carried him from the sand? Was it not her role to tend him in Irina's place? If the little mermaid had legs, she would never have left his side.

If she had legs...

Irina flung her arms around her sister and kissed her sweetly, thanking her for her aid. And the eldest princess smiled, glad to see her sister's heart lightened at last. Hand in hand, they returned to their undersea home. They had other preparations to make, after all, for soon it would be time for the grand court ball.

This ball, designed for Irina's debut, would be the grandest celebration Rodelmer's realm had seen since his wedding all those years ago. School of fish were trained to swim in glittering formations. Shells of all colors had been collected and touched with a hint of sea-fire so that they glowed from within, and arranged by hue to create waves of rainbow light all around the royal ballroom. The dancing would go on all night, but the royal concert would be an early highlight of the evening. All merfolk are known for their singing, but the princesses were trained in exquisite harmonies, and the youngest princess was known to have the sweetest voice of all. She would be the center of attention and her father amusedly predicted having to turn away many suitors for her hand by the evening's end.

Irina did her best throughout the rehearsals, but her thoughts crept back to her prince, with whom she had never been able to exchange a single word. What use was all the light and song in the world if her heart lay elsewhere? On the night of the ball, she could think only of the celebrations aboard Prince Frederik's ship, and her voice in the grand performance was so pure and sad that even the guests were moved to tears. They soon rallied, however, and the palace was filled with gaiety and laughter.

And then, while her father and her sisters danced with joy, Irina slipped out into the night, past the foaming whirlpools, to the realm of the Sea Witch.


	5. Witch

In the realm of the sorceress, neither grass nor flowers would grow. Before Irina stretched nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground. She thought that she saw trees in the distance and hurried their direction, but as she grew closer, she found that they were only the dead shells of bleached coral, skeletal shapes where once life and color had flourished. Among them lay great spikes of bone, the last remnant of mighty sea mammals that had died and been devoured years before.

The currents, near the whirlpools, were fierce, and sprays of gravel rose up to blind her vision. All she could see around her were bones, more and more of them. Fish bones. Human bones. Even the skeleton of a merman, his arms ripped away from his torso. Irina clutched herself for comfort and moved hesitantly forward. Then, without warning, the bones beneath her heaved and a great black tentacle lashed out, seeking to trap her in its coils. Irina shrieked in terror, darting forward as if propelled by jets. Swiftness seemed her only security. She refused to look at the horrors around her and swam for her life until at last she reached the center of the desolation.

Here, too, were bones, but bones that had been gathered together into the structure of a house and tied with black seaweed. This was the dwelling of the Sea Witch. But the door was shut, and guarded by a dozen fat water snakes.

Princess she might be, but Irina did not rule here. "Please," she called out. "Please, let me in. I beg a boon, and you are the only one in all the sea who can aid me."

The door opened, and the witch emerged.

In appearance, she was not unlike a mermaid, except that she wore a shimmering 'gown' of living fish, all of them tied by the tails into a net but still struggling to swim away, and their flapping fins made the gown ripple and sparkle in the dim light. Her hair and eyes were pure white, gleaming brighter than all the bones which surrounded her. 

"You seek your death," said the witch.

"Please," Irina began. "I seek your aid. I have given my heart to Prince Frederik of the Danelands, and I cannot live out of his presence. I beg you to turn my tail into legs so that I might walk on the land and seek his love."

"You seek your death," said the witch again. "There is a way for you to have your desire, but it will bring you nothing but sorrow. I can make you a potion which you must carry to land tomorrow before sunrise. Sit there upon the beach and drink it. You will feel a terrible pain, as your body is torn apart and stitched back together, and then you will seem to be as one of the humans. But you will still be a mermaid inside. You will have your natural sea-grace, and all who see you move will marvel, but every step upon the land will feel as if you are treading upon sharp knives. Can you bear such a thing?"

"Yes," said the little mermaid in a trembling voice. Had she not borne pain already for the sake of her love? 

"But know this," said the witch. "Once you have taken human shape, you cannot become a mermaid again. You will never again swim in the deep ocean waters, or else you would perish the same as any human. You will never again see your father, your sisters, your grandmother. And yet, you can never truly be human. Your love for your prince will keep you alive, but the first morning after he marries another, your heart will break and your body will dissolve into pebbles and foam, foam upon the waves. You will not leave even a memory."

"If he marries another," whispered Irina. "But... if he marries me?"

"He will not," said the witch. "No human man can love a creature of the sea. They only know how to conquer. You will not be a princess anymore, only a foundling. No prince would marry you."

The mer king's youngest daughter knew the expectations of royalty. For her prince to choose her, he would have to abandon his family and his responsibilities. But that did not make it impossible, for was she not making that same choice to pursue him? She raised her chin. "If I die when he weds, then at least I will have had the chance to stand by his side. If I do not go, I will die anyway. I cannot live without him. My heart is his."

"Little fool," said the sea witch, though her voice was strangely fond. "But what payment do you bring me, in exchange for this great boon?"

This had never occurred to the little mermaid. She was a princess, and everything in her life had been given to her. Payment was a concept she scarcely understood. "I have nothing," she said. "I could return to the palace, and bring you pearls, or shells, or flowers - "

"Worthless," said the sea witch. "From you, I will have your greatest treasure: your sweet voice, the most beautiful sound over or under the sea."

Irina covered her mouth in dismay. No voice? She would never be able to speak to the prince and tell him what lay in her heart? What a terrible price... But surely, such an awful price meant that the bargain was very valuable indeed? She could not be a coward now. She had pledged to give her life merely to sit by the prince's side. What was a voice, compared to that? "All right," she whispered.

"Put out your little tongue, that I may cut it off as my payment," said the sea witch.

Irina opened her mouth and closed her eyes, trembling. She felt pincers seize her tongue in an iron grip, and then a hot pain ripped through her. By instinct, she cried out - but nothing emerged except a cloud of blood. She clawed at her throat, choking.

"Hold still, you stupid child," said the sea witch, and pressed something soft into her mouth. "You are a mermaid still; stop trying to breathe."

Irina closed her mouth and tried to calm herself. Water flowed through her, sustaining her.

The sea witch put her pink tongue into a bottle, where it gleamed like a pearl. She then began to draw out other mysterious substances from their hiding places around the house of bone, casting them together into a knot of swirling steam that balanced itself in the center of the chamber. At one point she held up her own hand and pressed a knife to it, letting her black blood stream out into the unholy concoction. A green light began to pulse within. The witch reached her hands into the boiling mass to knead and shape it, cackling to herself. As a final touch, she ripped the soft sponge from Irina's mouth and cast it in. There was a brilliant flash, and Irina cowered, her courage at its limit.

When she could see again, the chamber was clear, and the witch was holding a glowing green vial. "Take this. Do not drink it until you are seated upon the shore. If you open it underwater, all your sacrifice will have been for nothing."

Irina did not thank the witch. For one, she could not speak. For another, it was not a favor done, but a service bought and paid for. She clutched the vial in one soft hand and shot away, away from the witch, away from the bones, away from death.

Away from one death, and toward another.

The sun had not yet risen when the little mermaid arrived at the protected beach, the little private paradise cordoned off by the royal Danes. The moon shone clear and bright, but no creature was stirring. She was alone.

Irina looked at the vial in her hand. She wondered, now, if she should have swum back to her own palace to kiss her father and her sisters one last time. Now, she would never see them again. But what could they have said to each other? She could not speak to explain her choice, and if they took the potion from her, all would be for naught. It was too late now for farewells. Let their last memory of her be as she was at the ball, when they were happy. 

Out of the water, the vial felt heavy in her hand.

The stump of her tongue no longer bled, but her mouth felt strangely empty.

She had come so far. And yet... When she had been carrying the prince through the ocean, it had been a struggle against desperate odds. There was no time to consider a different course. When she had chosen to venture into the Sea Witch's domain, she had been forced to rush ahead lest her bones decorate the witch's floor. When the witch had taken her tongue, she had only to hold still and let it happen. 

Could she have taken the knife and cut out her own tongue?

She wanted to think that she could. She had sworn to pay any price, hadn't she? She loved the prince, didn't she?

Yet she sat, holding the vial.

It was not so easy to take an irrevocable step when no one was forcing your hand.

No - she remembered. She had to drink the vial before the sun rose, or it would be worthless. So that was it. The choice was made.

Quickly now, she uncorked the bottle and held it to her lips. A stream of glowing green bubbles rushed into her mouth, filling her throat, and she struggled to swallow. For a moment, nothing happened. And then - knives! Pain, sharp and stabbing, in her chest, her neck, her fingers. It felt as if her very bones were being carved from her flesh. And then, the greatest blow of all, like an axe striking down upon her tail, cleaving it in two. Her body convulsed, then collapsed, lying senseless in the sand as if one dead. 

Everything was darkness.


	6. Foundling

There was a voice.

There was a voice, but Irina could not understand what it was saying.

There was warmth on one side of her, and cold on another.

She tried to open her eyes, and flinched There was brightness - too much brightness!

"Who are you?"

That was not her voice. She had no voice any longer.

She tried to curl her tail... and her _legs_ moved.

Legs!

Irina opened her eyes. She was lying on her side upon the private royal beach. Her fish-tail was gone, and in its place were delicate white legs and tiny feet. Her skin appeared to be changing colors, in some places far paler than before, in others more pink (for she had lain too long in the sun for one unused to it). Her hair, too, had lost its mermaid hue, fading into blonde tangles mixed with sand. 

But someone had spoken. She was not alone.

She looked up into the eyes of her beloved prince.

"Who are you?" he asked. "How did you come to be here? What do you want? Where are your clothes?"

Her lips moved, but she could not answer his questions. At the last, she flushed helplessly. She, of course, wore no coverings other than her hair. Such a thing would not be acceptable on the land.

"A mute," he declared, then. "Can you understand me? Nod your head."

She nodded obediently, drinking in the sight of him. It appeared that he had grown even taller in the time since she had last seen him. His face was as beautiful as ever, his body strong, but his eyes were dark and cloudy. The clothing that he wore was as rich as ever, though on land the cloth and gems could no longer drag him to his death.

"Well," Frederik said. "At least you can follow commands. A pretty child as well, and high-born. Let us take you inside." He offered her his hand.

Wondering, following instinct she hardly understood, Irina touched his fingers with her own and stood for the first time upon her feet - and gasped aloud, for that was one sound that did not require a voice. The press of her foot upon the ground was like being stabbed with needles, just as the witch had warned her.

The prince heard her gasp, saw how her eyes widened and her face paled, and smiled to himself. "Come with me."

He drew her along into the palace. Every step was a fresh pain, but to the outside eye her body seemed almost to float, light as a bubble and gently swaying. Once they were inside, Prince Frederik snapped his fingers and summoned an army of dressers to array her in the finest garments of silk and muslin. None of them dared to ask who this woman was, or why she stood nude and silent in the prince's presence. "Her hair is a disgrace. Have it brushed," he commanded. "Carefully. Do not damage the length."

And so Irina was made to sit upon a fine cushion while attendants brushed out her long tresses. Her hair had never before known the touch of a brush, and the tugging was often unpleasant, but compared to the pain of her feet it was as nothing. She did her best to keep her head upright, and fancied that the prince looked pleased.

When she was dressed and coiffed to his satisfaction, the prince escorted her to the grand salon, where his royal parents were waiting. He introduced her as the noble daughter of an unknown kingdom, washed up on their shores from a shipwreck, just as he himself had once been. "She has no voice, and perhaps no memories," he said. "But you can see by her hands and her hair that she is no commoner." The king and queen agreed with his assessment that the best thing to do was allow the lost child to remain at the palace until her kin could be identified.

Irina's heart leapt. She would be allowed to live with her prince!

"Let us have some entertainment," said the prince. "Bring in my dancing-slaves."

An assortment of young men and women, all of them fresh and beautiful, were ushered into the salon. They, too, were dressed in silk, although their robes were far thinner than the ones Frederik had chosen for Irina, and exposed more of their tanned, fit bodies. None of them wore shoes or slippers, and their feet were calloused and hard. Around their necks they wore collars of gold.

With fixed smiles upon their faces, they danced in perfect formation, spinning and tumbling their way across the floor. Then one young boy stepped forward and sang a song with the pure, fragile tones that could only be produced by a male child who had not yet begun to blossom into adulthood; a song prized for its rarity, as the singer's days were always on the verge of ending. The prince clapped his hands and smiled, then reached his hand into a bowl of candy at his side and tossed out treats for the singer. Irina sighed, imagining the prince's pleasure if only he could hear her voice!

Now musicians who played the mysterious stringed instruments Irina had once admired came forward to perform, and the slaves resumed their spinning, playing out pretty, fairy-like dances. The music touched her spirit, and the little mermaid leapt to her feet. Standing on the very tips of her toes, she glided across the floor, dancing as if she were still moving through the water and not upon the land, and all who watched were enchanted. But for Irina, every step felt as if she trod upon knives. Her body moved gracefully, but her face could not help but reveal her anguish. And the prince smiled. "Truly, she is the most beautiful creature in all the palace."

After that, the prince kept her by his side as often as possible. He had a page's outfit and hose made up for her so that she could accompany him on horseback as he hunted in the woods. It was a curious sensation, riding on the back of such an animal, and she trembled at the thought of its strength, at the hooves that could crush an animal's skull. Still, seated on a horse her feet need not touch the ground, and thus for a few hours she had a respite from pain. The prince was a great hunter who enjoyed the speed of the chase over rough terrain, and laughed to see the hounds worrying a fox. The blood did not bother Irina. Even fish had teeth.

At other times the prince enjoyed going for walks around the countryside, even climbing up rocks to the tops of hills to enjoy the view. Touched by the stones, Irina's baby-tender feet bled to the point that even she could track her footprints, but she only smiled and followed. "Such a good girl you are," Frederik said, as they sat together watching the clouds overhead. "A perfect ornament. I know that I am safe with you. Do you know, once, one of my own men tried to murder me?"

Irina's eyes widened, but she could not speak.

"We were at sea," said the prince. "He had me thrown overboard during a squall, so that he could claim it was an accident. A lesser man would have drowned, but my destiny kept me safe. The sea carried me to a far land, just as it did you. A young temple novice dragged me from the waves. She saved my life. I would have married her, if I could have, but she said she was swearing her life to the priesthood. Such a shame. She was the only woman I ever wanted to marry."

 _It was I who saved your life!_ Irina's lips moved, but she could not say the words. _Marry me!_

"The traitor was very surprised when I returned home alive," Frederik said. "I had him executed, of course. I hope that taught the others a lesson. It's so hard to find servants you can trust." He turned his gaze back to her. His hand brushed her hair. "But you would never hurt me, would you, my little foundling?" His fingers moved down, resting upon her neck. "I could do anything I liked to you, and you would never scream, never fight. Would you?"

Wordless, she shook her head.

"The perfect companion," he smiled. "Wait! I have a gift for you." He reached into his pocket and drew out a necklace of tiny beads that sparkled as blue as the sky. "I found them on the beach after the temple girl saved me. I think they might have come from her gown. I had them made into a necklace to give back to her, but she refused to see me. So instead I will give it to you, because you remind me of her. You are dear to me, for you are my most devoted follower."

The necklace was strung with Irina's own mermaid's tears. Gazing upon it, her eyes stung. She was human, now, and only salt water streamed from her eyes.

The prince smiled and fastened the string around her neck. "You are beautiful when you cry, my little foundling."

The pain was intense and sweet. Surely this was love.


	7. Princess

At night, sometimes, the former mermaid would venture out onto the royal beach and dabble her burning feet in the water to ease the pain. She missed the cool embrace of the water, but she knew that to dive back into those depths would cost her life.

One night, she saw something stirring among the waves, and leapt to her feet in alarm. It was her sisters, swimming arm in arm. They had guessed where she might have gone, had visited here time and again searching for her until at last she was spotted and recognised even in her human form.

Though they would not come upon the shores, her sisters swam close, clamoring questions. What had she done? Why? Could it be undone? Was she all right? Did she miss them?

But she could not speak.

The next night, only the eldest returned. "Grandmother told me of the bargain you made," she called out. "Are you safe? Does the prince love you? Will he marry you?"

Irina spread her hands in confusion. Did he love her? He cared for her. He gave her gifts. He kept her close. But he had never asked him to marry her.

"Is he pledged to another?"

Irina shook her head. The only girl Frederik had claimed to love was the lost princess of the temple, and she would not have him. 

"Then you are safe for now," said her sister. "We will keep watch. Never forget! You are not alone!"

With that, she dove back into the sea.

Irina fell to her knees and cried human tears. Her beautiful, sweet sisters. She had betrayed them and left without a word. She had not even thought about them while she explored her new world. And yet, they still loved her, still wished to protect her.

Frederik cherished her. He had said so. But it was not the same as the love of her sisters.

Ashamed, Irina turned away from the sea and returned to her bed of silks.

Life in the palace settled into a gentle routine. She was the prince's companion, his confidante, always close at hand. The king and queen had sailed away on some grand diplomatic mission and sent back only messages. At the palace, there was only pleasure. Music, hunting, laughter, and a fresh batch of slaves to serve their every need. Irina's heart should have been joyous. She found, though, that she missed her undersea home. She missed her little garden, the flowers that she tended, her willow tree, her beloved statue. The prince would gladly give her gifts if it occurred to him that she might wish them, but she could not communicate her simple desires. Digging in the dirt was not something that the prince would consider for himself.

Then, one day, the terrible news came. The king and queen had completed their desired alliance and were returning to the palace - with a princess to be Frederik's bride.

Irina's heart was as ice. The cold fear numbed her body, even easing the ever-present pain of her feet. This was it. She would die.

Frederik seemed unconcerned. "I will see this beautiful princess of theirs, but I know I cannot love her. They will not oblige me to wed a girl I do not choose. They do not have the strength to force me."

He said these things, and showed no fear. He was untroubled. It was only a minor inconvenience to him, a disruption in his routine. For Irina, it meant a great deal more. So distressed was she that she even gave up some of her hours of attendance upon the prince in order to wait upon the balcony, staring out to sea, watching for signs of the approaching ship. 

This, if nothing else, did draw Frederik's notice. "Poor little dumb girl," he teased. "Are you afraid that you will lose your place? Perhaps I shall marry this princess after all and keep you as her maid. Wouldn't you like that?" He laughed, and his dark eyes flashed.

Irina fell to her knees before him, shaking her head, wordlessly pleading.

"Ah, you do have pride," said the prince. "You know your own value. You should not belong to anyone lesser than myself. Smile for me, little lost girl. I will not let you go."

After that, she spent every hour at his side. Even when he slept, she curled up on a cushion outside his door, like a cat. If her death was approaching, she would first extract every possible moment of love from her life.

The ship arrived, and brought with it the king and queen, and also the prince's promised bride. She walked ashore, her head hanging down, her hair a veil around her face. Frederik stood, unimpressed, the little mermaid at his side.

"My son, this is the Princess Aino of Suomi," said the king.

"Raise your head, child," clucked the queen.

The princess looked up.

Irina gasped.

Frederik's eyes widened. "It is you - it is you!" For it was the girl who had been leader among the temple novices, the girl who had found him upon the beach that morning, the girl he had pledged to marry if she would have him. He rushed forward, grasping her hands roughly in his and pulling her toward him. "At last, at last!"

Aino smiled quietly and lowered her eyes again.

He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Ah, my destiny! I should not have doubted. But wait, I have a gift for you!" A few long strides brought him back to Irina's side. "Take off that necklace and give it to the princess," he commanded.

With shaking hands, Irina reached behind her neck and unfastened the string of mermaid's tears.

He pressed her forward. "Go, go!" His voice lowered. "I know you will rejoice at my happiness, for your devotion to me is great and sincere."

She could not resist. What would be the point? She would die soon. The little mermaid walked upon freshly-scalded feet, cradling the crystals of her own sorrow in her hands. She reached the princess and lifted up her hands, her silent lips trembling.

Aino took the necklace. "Thank you, your highness," she said aloud, and "I'm sorry," she added in a whisper. But Irina did not hear.

For the week before the wedding, celebrations ranged all over the city. The ceremony itself was held in the seaside palace, after which the newly made bride and groom, along with Irina their loyal attendant, set sail back to the bride's home kingdom, so that her parents might also bless their union. In the center of the ship, a special bridal chamber had been prepared with plush couches and velvet hangings, and there Irina was not invited. She stood upon the deck, watching the sun set, knowing that it was to be the last time she would ever see it.

As darkness fell, colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced upon the deck. It reminded Irina painfully of that first night when she had risen from the sea and seen the prince. If that night had never taken place, she might still be safe at home with her sisters, to live for a mermaid's span of years. But then she would not have known love.

It was worth it, wasn't it?

The pain meant something, didn't it?

The night wore on, and eventually the revels eased and the sailors went to their beds. Only the little mermaid remained, watching to the east for the first blush of morning - the first ray of sunlight, which would end her life and turn her body to pebbles and foam.

As she watched, she saw shapes rising from the water.

It was her sisters, the other mermaid princesses. They looked pale and sick, and their beautiful hair no longer waved in the water; it had been cut off.

"Little sister!" cried the eldest. "We have not abandoned you! We have sold our hair to the sea witch for a chance to save you."

Save her? Irina did not understand.

"You don't have to die!" called the second. "You can live! Take this knife - " And she threw the knife, a dark sliver of bone that flipped end over end and slapped into Irina's outstretched palm as if summoned to it. "Plunge it into the prince's heart!"

Irina's eyes widened in horror.

"He never loved you!" said the third. "He is only a man! Before the sun rises, you must kill him with this knife. When his blood waters your legs, they will rejoin into a tail. You can be a mermaid again!"

She shook her head. How? How could she do such a thing?

"Either you or he will be dead by sunrise!" pleaded the fourth. "Our father is already in mourning for you! Grandmother is sick with grief! Kill the prince and all will be well!"

Her lips moved silently. _But I love him._

"We love you, sister! Please come home! Come home!" Those were the words of the fifth princess.

And then it was Irina's turn.

She stared at the bone knife in her hand. A narrow handle and a long sharp spike. It had only one purpose: to stab and pierce. But could she do it?

Step by painful step, she approached the bridal cabin.

I will only look upon his face, one last time, she told herself. Then I will die, content.

She pushed the velvet hangings aside.

There they lay. The beautiful prince, his arms spread wide, his coal-black curls framing his sweet face, a smile upon his lips even in his sleep. And at his side, his new wife, the temple princess, her head turned away, her body curled up.

Neither of them stirred.

Was the sun rising outside? How long did she have to live?

Irina stepped closer.

 _He never loved you!_ She could hear the voices of her sisters in her mind. _You can be a mermaid again!_

But he was so fair. He lay there, unmoving, and Irina remembered how hard she had fought to keep him alive, how she had wept over his body while he lay upon the sand.

Would he have ever cried for her?

He cared for her, didn't he?

As what? An ornament? A slave?

_You would never hurt me, would you, my little foundling?_

Why had one of his own men tried to murder him?

_Either you or he will be dead by sunrise!_

She raised the knife over her head and held there, poised, trembling. It was not so easy to take an irrevocable step...

Suddenly, Princess Aino stirred. She rolled over on the bed, turning to face Irina, and her eyes opened. She stared at the little mermaid, who stood there, shaking, knife in hand.

Aino's face was swollen and bruised. Her lips moved, but they made no sound. Only Irina, who had spent these many months voiceless, could read the words she shaped: Do it.

She closed her eyes, and brought down the knife.


	8. Epilogue

"You are a mermaid," Princess Aino said, her voice awed. "I thought so."

Irina could not reply. The blood which had soaked her gown restored her tail, but not her voice. She would never sing again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the princess whispered. "We've got to get you out of here. They'll kill you if they find out. We've got to get you back into the ocean. Can you - no, you can't walk, I'm sorry..."

She was babbling, but Irina was still in shock. This girl wanted to help her?

"I don't know what he did to you, but I know what he did to me," said Aino, touching her face. "But it's perfect. We can get you back in the water and say you killed yourself in despair. We - we'll use the window. Take off your dress and leave it wedged there."

Irina flapped her tail, her eyes filled with questions.

"My mother met a mermaid once when she was young," Aino said. "I always wanted to see one myself. I'm sorry we don't have more time. But with Frederik dead, I can return to my temple. You could meet me there if you wanted. We can talk - well, I guess you can't talk. I don't know why you can't talk, but I'll think of something. Maybe I can teach you to read. But first you've got to get that dress off, you can't swim like that!"

She was alive. She was alive, and had... a friend? 

Irina had no idea how to feel.

She unfastened the bloodstained gown and wriggled free.

"I'm sorry this is a little undignified, but between the two of us, I think we can get you out the window," said Aino. "Please forgive me if my hands slide a little. I've never done this before."

Frederik had never asked her forgiveness for anything.

And in that moment, Irina finally began to re-evaluate a lot of her ideas about love.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Aino. "Do - do you mind if I keep the necklace? I know what it's made of. It's yours, isn't it? I'll give it back to you if you want, but I'd like to have it to remember, if you don't mind - "

There was one thing Irina could do even without a voice.

She smiled.


End file.
